


Descend into Darkness

by Estelathan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loki falling through the Void, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:17:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelathan/pseuds/Estelathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki let go of Gungnir’s haft he hoped to die. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descend into Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the events of the first Thor movie.
> 
> For NovaMitchell who is always there for me.

In the void there was nothing except darkness, yet for the longest time the figure falling through it hardly noticed. His brain was too muddled, his heart too shattered to process anything beyond the darkness that lurked in his soul. .  
  
Loki had wanted to die.  
  
What reason was there to go on living? Hadn’t he tried to prove himself worthy enough already? He could have done it; could have proven himself a worthy son if only Thor hadn’t gotten in the way and completely ruined everything! Couldn’t Odin _see_ that? Couldn’t he see what Loki had tried to accomplish? He would have prevented an entire war and destroyed that useless race of monsters once and for all and wouldn’t have spilled a single drop of Æsir blood! He could have  done it!  
  
But no, Odin hadn’t seen, had he? How quick he’d been to cut Loki down to the core with two simple words that had burrowed their way deep into his heart: “No Loki.” It was in that moment Loki knew he had truly lost at long last. He’d never be worthy enough in Odin’s eyes, never good enough to be truly considered his son. What was the point of continuing on then? Odin had all but forsaken him, Thor and his so-called friends hated him, and soon the tales of his disastrous reign as king would spread out like poison among the rest of Asgard.  There would be no escaping the looks, the whispers, the scorn that would be aimed his way. For all the jumbled mess of his mind Loki knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He could no more slip into the shadows of his old life than a leaf could cling back to a tree after it had fallen to the ground. Some things, once lost, can never return.  
  
And so Loki let go of Gungnir’s haft and hoped for death.  
  
The first few moments after he lets go are exhilarating beyond words. As he watches his false family and the swirl of Asgard’s stars fade further and further away a weight lifts from his chest. At long last he’s finally free! After all those years of being a nothing more than mere shadow in Thor's image, scorned and unwanted, he is finally, blessedly, free! The feeling is so foreign that he can't help but treasure it closely despite it coming upon the heels of death.  
  
Yet, despite his peace, death does not come for him.  
  
There is nothing in the void; no sound, no sight, no air, just absolute black nothingness stretching onto eternity yet Loki still lives. It’s impossible, improbable, but there is no denying that he is still alive when he should not be.  
  
In the time it takes this revelation to sink in the little measure of peace Loki gained has melted away. Is he truly so cursed that not even death will meet him in peace?! It is just as well there is no air to fill his lungs- there are not enough words to convey the outrage that suddenly burns through him at being cheated like this.  
  
Once ignited again his rage becomes a living thing burning hot against the darkness that surrounds him.  It spills it's way from his heart into every crack, every crevice, providing sustenance where there is none. Every slight, every mocking word from boyhood on becomes tinder for the fire and for a long time he is nothing more than a simmering ball of rage.  
  
Fury and frustration mount under his skin like crawling bugs, itching to be released. In impotent rage he flails out, clawing and punching the air as feeble wisps of his magic flicker from his fingertips. He's nearly blind with his fury and the lack of a solid target upon wish he can unleash it on is near unbearable. He doesn't notice when he starts clawing at his own arms, drawing blood to the surface, but the pain is exquisite nonetheless. The pain is grounding as it flares along his numbed nerves, fulfilling him in ways he hadn't even known had existed. If he was a fanciful creature Loki would be pressed to conceded that for the first time in a long while he actually felt alive.  
  
It all turns into a frenetic blur after that as he claws and bites and punches himself in an effort to chase that first electric tingle of pain. There is no sound in the darkness he's trapped within yet his mouth works soundlessly, spewing curses and every possible vile thing he can think of in the moment. He wants to hurt himself, he wants to feel the pain. He hates himself and deserves to suffer yet the pain makes him feel alive and he wants more until he simply cannot bare it.  
  
How long his writhing dance of pain and ecstasy lasts, Loki does not know. Time is meaningless when there is nothing to measure it by. What feels like an eon could only have been mere minutes in reality. However long it’s been, it’s been long enough. What had started out at first as a ball of white-hot rage churning in his gut has died down into a mere flicking ember as his limbs and mouth slow in their frantic movements. When he finally stops flailing completely Loki's surprised to find he's exhausted, his limbs feeling like leaden weights in their sockets.  
  
For an inordinate length of time he let’s the Void have it’s way with him as he falls, his mind adrift and unaware. After the crescendo of so much anger he feels hallow. Wrung-out. Numb. What is to become of him now? That’s the ultimate question, isn’t it? Is there anything left worth living for? He’s a monster, a lie. Nothing more than a stolen relic that’s not even worthy of it’s intended purpose so what’s the point? Is death the only thing left for him now? Despair commingles with the hatred in his gut. He’s a broken record stuck on repeat. With no air to fill his lungs Loki finds he can’t quite sob, but that doesn’t stop the tears that trail down his face.  
  
Eternity passes him by in darkness and ruin and he’s so utterly lost that he doesn’t even care when he feels an invisible force latch onto him. What is this? Has death changed her mind and finally come for him at last? There’s nothing truly to see when he finally does look; just gaping darkness surrounded by the darkness that’s been there all along. Whomever, whatever it is has it’s invisible tendrils wrapped around him however, pulling him in closer towards the gap. Resistance is futile; after so much nothingness the force of the pulling is like struggling against a brick wall and so Loki relents before he even begins.  
  
His heart still feels heavy within his chest. He’s already fallen from the light into the darkness so how much worse could this new thing be? Only monsters lurked within the darkness and he already was one so let them come. Nothing could be worse than the nightmares that already live within his soul.  
  
The invisible force is pulling harder, breaking him free from the darkness he’s resided in for so long. As he braces himself for impact against the darkness Loki closes his eyes and tells himself sweet lies: Whatever happens it can’t be worse than that which he’s already endured. He’s a survivor above all, and monster or no, he will survive. He will find his way through the cosmos back to Asgard and on that day he’ll rise in triumph once again. As he’s slammed down onto the rocky, jagged surface of the asteroid he treasures the lies close to his heart. He will survive.


End file.
